


the smoke gets in your eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Arson, F/F, baby firby being besties, be gay do crimes, canon is purely optional to me, i don't know where this came from, i love alexis but for the purpose of the fic i had to make her bad and i’m sad about it, i love them but they have to suffer, i profusely apologise for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24651001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kirby had never seen Fallon hesitate before. She couldn't doubt this. Not now.
Relationships: Kirby Anders/Fallon Carrington
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Hesitate





	the smoke gets in your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I don't even know what this is. It's kind of dark. I don't know what to tell you. Trigger warning for fire and arson.
> 
> As always, I'd like to thank Amanda for beta reading this for me!
> 
> And I’d like to apologise to Ruth for breaking her one and only rule.  
> Happy reading!

“She’s asleep,” Fallon said, slipping from her parents’ bedroom and shutting the door softly. “The stuff’s on the nightstand.”

Kirby smiled, revealing a mouthful of braces. She raised her hand and Fallon met it with hers, and interlaced their fingers. Kirby sucked in a breath and shuffled towards the bedroom door, her fingers still twisted with Fallon’s. She pushed the door open and dropped the other girl’s hand, her heart thumping in her throat.

They’d been planning this for months. Hours spent poring over Fallon’s bullet journal and Wikipedia pages detailing how they’d pull this off. It had to look like an accident. And it would. No one would ever suspect them; a fourteen-year-old and a twelve-year-old. Girls that age don’t do things like this — not ones from Buckhead, anyway. Fallon and Kirby were perfect little angels. 

Kirby crept across the hardwood floor. She’d worn socks to muffle her footsteps. She wouldn’t dare be caught for something as menial as heavy footfalls. Even after nine years of ballet training, she still had the footing of a herd of elephants. Alexis lay curled in a ball in the centre of the bed, her body angled towards the large window directly facing the door, her peroxide yellow hair fanned out behind her. Kirby made her way to the other side of the bed and stood over the woman, watching her for a moment. Neither made any sudden movements. An empty crystal tumbler, a packet of cigarettes and Alexis’s vintage lighter sat on the nightstand. Fallon had removed a single cigarette from the pack and smudged the end with Alexis’s favourite ruby lipstick. 

Kirby lifted the lighter and pushed the cap off with her thumb before flicking it on, the flame’s dance reflecting in her pupils. She reached for the pre-prepared cigarette, her eyes still fixed on the fire flickering from the lighter. She lit the cigarette and waited a moment, holding it between her gloved fingers and watching the overhang of ash grow. She knelt and dropped it on the plush alabaster rug. It snuffed. The lit embers died, and the centimetre of ash fell from the end of it. Kirby swallowed a frustrated groan and brought the lighter down to the carpet, igniting it. The flame sputtered for a moment, and she feared it wouldn’t catch, but it steadied and began to crawl along the floor, slight wisps of smoke curling towards the ceiling. Alexis turned in her sleep.

Kirby smiled to herself and stood, the delicious smell of burning wood burning her nose and the back of her throat. She placed the lighter back on the nightstand and left the room again, her footsteps lighter than when she entered. She closed the door softly, twisting the key in the lock before taking it out and pushing it under the door. Alexis wouldn’t be able to see if she woke up, anyway. Mixing scotch and sleeping pills had that effect on a person.

Kirby disappeared into the TV room where Fallon sat waiting for her with half-empty glasses of coke and some popcorn.  _ The Princess Diaries  _ played on the large screen at the front of the room, already thirty or so minutes in. She’d thought of everything. Fallon turned the volume up to drown out the whining fire alarms and patted the recliner next to her.

“Why are you just standing there? We have a movie to watch,” she said. She’d sprawled herself out on her chair, her legs hanging over the arm rather than the recliner. 

Kirby flopped down on the chair next to her and leant the weight of her head on her hand. “I think this is going to work,” she said, a wicked grin spreading over her face.

“It  _ has _ to work,” Fallon said, suddenly very serious. “I can’t stand one more day with her. She’s making me  _ miserable. _ She told me to lay off the carbs yesterday, she thinks I’m getting love handles!”

“It  _ will work _ , Fallon. She’s gone for. Don’t worry.”

Kirby’s father rushed into the room and paused to catch his breath, his hand over his heart. 

“Have either of you seen Mrs Carrington?” He asked.

“No, why? Is everything alright?” Kirby paused the film and shook her head, her face the picture of pure innocence. Freckles spattered across the cheekbones; sparks flickered from her fingertips.

“There’s a fire in her bedroom and we can’t seem to find her anywhere.”

Sirens squealed outside and staff sprinted up and down the hallway, their shoes squeaking on the polished floors. Someone had turned off the fire alarm. Smoke crept across the ceiling, beginning to intrude into the TV room.

“What? Why can’t you find her? You don’t think she’s in there, do you?” Fallon stuttered, her words catching in her throat as though she was about to cry. She was better at lying than she was at breathing.

Anders didn’t answer, but his expression said everything. The doorbell rang and he left again. He didn’t suspect a thing.

Fallon went to visit her mother in the hospital with Blake that evening. Kirby had been excluded from the outing, not that she’d particularly wanted to go. Unfortunately, Alexis was going to be fine. Eventually. She was hurt. Not dead. Not yet. The toxicology report led the doctors to believe she’d mixed the pills and the booze herself and had been smoking when she passed out. Alexis was too out of it to say otherwise. She wouldn’t remember, anyway. The combination of overdosing on sleeping pills and smoke inhalation would do her memory no favours. No one thought otherwise, either. A tortured woman on the verge of divorce with her billionaire husband and at odds with her teenaged daughter was bound to have a breaking point. Almost everything had gone to plan. Their only pitfall was that Alexis lived.

* * *

Kirby’s mother demanded she left the manor. She’d moved back to Australia eighteen months before, and Kirby was almost certain she’d been itching to bring her daughter home with her for just as long. The fire was only an excuse. Kirby almost protested but decided against it. Yes, she was leaving Fallon, but she was also leaving Alexis, who was still alive and kicking, too. She wouldn’t have a chance to get rid of her again, anyway. There were only so many fires she could light before things got suspicious. Moving home with her mother meant she’d never have to see the horrid woman again. Leaving Fallon was almost worth it.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. We haven’t even tried Plan B yet,” Fallon whined, pulling the folded clothes back out of Kirby’s suitcase and throwing them on the floor. “We’re supposed to be in this together, Kirb. You can’t leave me.”

“My mum doesn’t think it’s safe here anymore, and my dad agrees. I don’t really have a say in this,” Kirby said. “Pick up my clothes, please. You’re being a brat, Fal.”

Another whine escaped Fallon’s lips and she grabbed the t-shirts from the floor and threw them back into the case. They landed in a haphazard heap. Kirby glared at her. Fallon groaned and began the fold them again, badly but to the best of her ability.

“I don’t want to go either. But I can’t convince my parents to let me stay here. Mum thinks Alexis is too dangerous to be around anymore.”

“I wish you could convince them to let me come with you,” Fallon grumbled, stacking the t-shirts in the suitcase.

“So do I. My mum would probably be okay with it. I don’t think yours would be, though.”

Kirby wanted nothing more. Fallon was her one and only reservation to leaving. She’d give anything for Fallon to come home with her - not that Blake and Alexis would ever allow that. They were hardly going to let Fallon move to the other side of the planet without them so she could be with Kirby. If anything, they’d probably asked Alicia to take Kirby back. Most likely something to with her corrupting their daughter.

“You have to promise to keep in touch. Make an AOL or something. You can’t leave me  _ and _ cut me out.”

“Obviously. My life would be awfully dull without you.”

It was. Fallon and Kirby managed to keep in touch for a grand total of three months. Kirby forgot her AOL password and Fallon got busy with the equestrian team. It happens, or at least that’s what Kirby’s mother told her. “Friends lose touch. You didn’t think you’d be friends with Fallon forever, did you?” She asked, her tone barely missing sympathetic. Alicia’s apparent dislike of Fallon was only showing now. Sometimes, Kirby thought her mother forgot that she was only twelve. She was almost certain twelve-year-olds shouldn’t have to learn that friendships can be fleeting. But, then again, twelve-year-olds shouldn’t be committing arson, either.

No one ever found out that Fallon and Kirby were responsible for the fire. Thank God, because it would have been Kirby’s fault; she would have seduced Fallon to the dark side or something. The Carringtons liked to forget the redhead was only twelve, too, and that their own precious daughter was a tad sociopathic as well. While they’d planned it together, it was Fallon’s idea to burn down her parents’ bedroom with her mother inside. She was the pyro to their mania. Not the other way around.

* * *

  
  
**INSTAGRAM** **  
** **[@kirbyanders1]: @falloncarringtonofficial has requested to follow you.**

Kirby hadn’t heard from Fallon in over ten years. Heard  _ of _ her, sure. It wasn’t hard to keep tabs on someone when they were one of the richest women in Georgia, and constantly a part of a media circus. Fallon had a knack for attracting attention, whether it be purposeful or not. She must have known getting married to two different men in one weekend would attract attention. Especially from Kirby. How could she overlook  _ that _ ?

She stared at the notification for a moment. It slipped back up to the top of her phone screen and disappeared, so she pulled down her notification centre to look at it once more. She’d spent enough time on Fallon’s Instagram account to know it was actually hers; it had a blue tick and everything. But she didn’t follow Fallon. She’d made that choice a while ago. Fallon wanted nothing to do with her, so she wouldn’t want anything to do with Fallon. Or that’s what she told herself, anyway.

Kirby waited seventy-four minutes to accept Fallon’s follow request. Only a moment later, Fallon sent her a message.

**_@falloncarringtonofficial:_ ** _ Hi. Long time no see. _

_ @ _ **_kirbyanders1:_ ** _ hey _

**_@falloncarringtonofficial:_ ** _ Steven is getting married. _ _  
_ **_@falloncarringtonofficial:_ ** _ You should come. _

**_@kirbyanders1:_ ** _ why should i _

**_@falloncarringtonofficial:_ ** _ Alexis will be there. We have a second chance. _

**_@kirbyanders1:_ ** _ get me an invitation _

Steven’s fiance also invited her to the wedding. Something to do with reconciling with her father. She told him she wouldn’t attend; that she’d rather not see her father. The things she did for Fallon.

Kirby had behaved herself while back in Australia. Hand on her heart, she hadn’t attempted to burn down a single house. Thought about it? Maybe. But that wasn’t the point. She wouldn’t do something like that without Fallon, anyway. She couldn’t plan something that would work out on her own. The brunette was the brains of the operation - Kirby just carried their plans out. They were a package deal, and Fallon seemed to be of the same opinion. Surely, Kirby would have heard if billionaire heiress Fallon Carrington had attempted to murder her mother. She’d never have the guts to go through with it. 

Blake and Alexis were wrong; Kirby didn’t corrupt Fallon. And Alicia was wrong too; Fallon didn’t corrupt Kirby. They corrupted each other. How beautiful.

* * *

Fallon stood in front of Kirby, her arms folded over her chest and her right eyebrow raised.

“Is that  _ really _ what you’re wearing? We’re going to a  _ wedding _ , Kirby,” she said. She dropped her arms and smoothed down the skirt of her scarlet dress before brushing past Kirby to her closet.

“You said no one can know I’m here,” Kirby said, annoyance dripping from her tone. Fallon had gotten  _ very _ irritating in their time apart. Kirby was almost glad they hadn’t kept in touch. She couldn’t imagine having to put up with this for  _ ten years. _

“People are going to notice you if you show up looking like  _ that _ !”

Kirby looked down at her outfit. Perhaps fishnets and Doc Martens weren’t the appropriate attire for  _ Steven Carrington’s _ wedding. She rolled her eyes and Fallon passed her a silky black dress. Kirby was fairly sure it cost more than her rent. She shrugged off her jacket and threw it on Fallon’s perfectly made bed. She stripped from the Moaning Lisa t-shirt and her black denim shorts. Fallon didn’t look away. Kirby didn’t mind.

“So you know what you’re doing, yeah?” Fallon asked once Kirby was decent again. 

“After the ceremony, I’m going to follow Alexis up to the loft when she goes to reapply her lipstick, you’ll come up a few minutes later, and we’re going to torch the place. We’ve been over this like a hundred times. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this, you know.”

“It didn’t work last time.”

Kirby shot her a scathing look. “I need a pair of shoes.”

“You have to get this right.” Fallon tossed her a pair of strappy sandals.

“I will.”

Fallon stared at Kirby for a further few seconds. She didn’t think she could do it. Kirby turned away and walked over to the bed. She pulled a lighter and a single cigarette from her jacket pocket. She held it between her teeth and lit it, took a drag before turning to Fallon again.

“I’m not twelve anymore. I know what I’m doing.”

“You can’t smoke in here!” Fallon said, her voice almost shrill.

“ _What_? Scared of a little fire?”

Fallon rolled her eyes. “It’ll stink up the room. At least do it out the window… Actually, don’t. No one can know you’re here.”

Fallon had never had that problem when they were younger. Alexis smoked everywhere and anywhere she wanted. There was never a mute from her daughter. Interesting.

“Keep rolling your eyes. Maybe you’ll find your brain.”

Kirby knew she was being a snarky asshole, but Fallon was getting on her nerves. She finished her cigarette and dropped the butt in the empty wastepaper basket next to the dresser. They had seven minutes before they had to leave.

* * *

Kirby slipped into the back row, her hair curtaining over her face. There was an older couple she didn’t recognise sitting next to her. They smiled at her, she smiled back. Anything to not seem suspicious. She crossed one leg over the other and twisted her hands in her lap. She found Fallon sitting in the front row with one of her ex-husbands. Kirby hadn’t bothered to learn his name. Fallon kept her eyes forward and didn’t acknowledge the other woman’s presence in the room. Alexis was nowhere in sight. She was probably waiting to make her grand entrance. Typical.

Steven and Sam walked down the aisle together. The ceremony was beautiful. Alexis never made an appearance. That just made Kirby’s job easier. She waited until the newlyweds had walked back up the aisle before she texted Fallon again to meet her outside the loft. The reception was in the ballroom. No one would notice they’d gone. Kirby joined the procession leaving the room the ceremony had taken place in. Fallon was somewhere at the front.

The loft was smaller than Kirby remembered it to be. There were fewer stairs up to it. The whole manor seemed smaller. It was still huge and unnecessarily decadent, but the house seemed to have shrunk in her absence. They say that happened as you get older, but she never expected such a thing to happen to Carrington Manor. It always felt too important to just get smaller. She stood against the wall a few metres from the bottom of the stairs, standing on her tiptoes to stop her heels from sinking into the grass. Fallon trudged across the grass towards her, holding a gas lamp in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. Kirby was surprised she even knew what the latter was.

“Is she up there?” Fallon asked. She pulled a pair of white cotton gloves from the cleavage of her dress and handed them to Kirby, who took them and put them on. The brunette was wearing a matching pair. Kirby nodded.

A window opened upstairs, and voices floated through the air. Fallon looked up, a frown settling on her lips. “I think someone’s up there with her. She’s talking to someone.”

“She’s probably just on the phone. Give me that.”

“But-”

Kirby scoffed. She’d never seen Fallon hesitate in her life. She doubted the brunette even  _ could _ hesitate. Fallon was always so sure about everything she did. She always knew exactly what to say and how to say it. She exuded confidence  _ always _ . She was bluffing. She’d been thinking about this moment for eleven years. She  _ wanted _ this.

“Don’t tell me you’re second-guessing this?” Kirby asked, tilting her head to the side. 

“No, of course not. I just think we should check if someone else is in there with her.”

“Is anyone missing from the party?”

“No-”

“Then it’s no one important. Give me the lamp.”

Fallon handed over the gas lamp with reluctance and pulled off her shoes, leaving them on the grass before starting up the stairs. Kirby discarded her own shoes and followed the other woman, keeping an eye on the flame. She stopped five stairs shy of the top. Fallon flipped the latch over the door’s lock and jammed the screwdriver where a lock would normally go. She stepped back and descended the stairs again without a second glance. 

Kirby grabbed her by the arm, halting her in her tracks. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Fallon opened her mouth and closed it again, averting her eyes. She shrugged.

What did that even mean? Frustration swelled in Kirby’s chest. She closed her eyes and counted backward from ten.

“If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to. She is your mother, I guess.”

Fallon waited a beat to answer. “No, I do. She left. She got in touch with Steven and not me. She hid a brother from me. She deserves this.”

Kirby nodded, not bothering to ask about this secret other brother. They didn’t have time to open that can of worms right now.

“So, do you want me to do this?”

“Yes,” Fallon said, nodding her head. She sounded determined enough to convince Kirby. Fallon pulled her arm from the redhead’s grasp and jogged down the remaining steps.

Kirby pulled the skirt of her dress up and tied it around her thighs to keep it out of the way. She dropped the lamp and waited for the fire to catch. It only took a moment. Fallon had already made off with their shoes and was running towards the horses’ paddock when Kirby got to the bottom of the stairs. She hadn’t seen Fallon run since the fifth grade.

Kirby went after her, keeping her pace leisurely, the adrenaline already wearing off. This hadn’t been as exciting as she’d anticipated. The fire was still relatively small, and there was only a small amount of greyish smoke curling towards the sky. Sprinting across the manor grounds would only look suspicious. She walked to the stables and no one saw her. It was fine.

Fallon sat on the fence surrounding the paddock, the bottom of her dress caked with mud. She had her arms crossed over herself and her head turned to watch a pair of horses grazing at the far end of the paddock. She hadn’t noticed Kirby yet. 

Kirby turned to face the house. Black smoke billowed from the loft, mingling with the sunset’s pink and orange clouds. Flames licked up the side of the building, the ones ravaging the roof swaying in the wind. 

“Do you think we should call nine-one-one?” Fallon’s voice took Kirby by surprise. She turned to face the other woman, clasping her hands behind her back. Fallon twisted her ponytails around her fingers, her gaze burning into Kirby’s. She was regretting this already. It had been almost ten minutes.

“This was your idea, Fallon. It’s too late to get cold feet.” Kirby climbed on the fence and sat next to her and untied her dress. The knot left a red line around the circumference of her thighs. She rubbed at it as though that would make it go away. It didn’t.

“I know it was my idea. And I don’t have cold feet. I just don’t want my whole house to burn down. I want to sleep in my own bed tonight.” Her voice was flippant, without a trace of care. While her face spoke a similar sentiment, her eyes revealed all. There was something  _ off _ about them. There was no devilish glint to them. She looked incomplete without it. Like she’d lost an ear.

“Good.”

Fallon didn’t offer a reply, she just turned her attention back to the horses on the other side of the paddock.

Sirens screeched in the distance. Help was on the way, but they were too late. The fire had been raging for over fifteen minutes. Alexis was dead. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
